


planes, my heart, and other things that occasionally go 600mph without warning

by orphan_account



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aviophobia, Gen, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Shenanigans, Trans Character, emeto warning for the plane bits ? not 2bad tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren and Leon go to New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was clearing out stuff from evernote and decided mb publishing this would motivate me to finish it, also ren punched kai in the face in my last fic and i think i need a break from writing actual plot
> 
> i have so many gender hcs for everyone in cfv Le

"Are you _sure_ this is our gate?"

Hitsue Airport is huge, noisy and packed to the brim with interesting characters, just the sort of atmosphere that Ren seems to generally enjoy. However, the tall redhead is somehow managing to look completely out of place in the waiting area chair, and it's not just the fact that he's curled up in it like a cat.

"Ren, you've asked me that three times already." Leon stares into their coffee and decides the over-sugared dregs in their Starbucks cup aren’t worth finishing. They'd have gotten a plain hazelnut mocha or something, but Ren ordered them a drink with eighteen syllables and extra whipped cream this morning. (Without their consent, naturally.) "Didn’t you bring anything to do?"

Ren huffs. "Am I that boring to you?"

"No," answers Leon truthfully, because Suzugamori Ren is about as far from boring as one can get. "However, asking me about the plane gate is the equivalent of 'Are we there yet?' and I will completely ignore you for all fourteen hours it takes to get to New York if you question me one more time."

"Tch." Ren turns up his nose and tugs a translucent Game Boy out of his carry-on, propping his chin on his knees as he flicks the power switch. The opening theme of Pokemon Ruby floats into the space between them, and Leon thinks they should probably be concerned that they possess enough latent knowledge about video games to recognize the exact game he’s playing.

Minutes pass, punctuated only by dissonant airport noise and the sounds of Ren's game. Leon presses two fingers to their temple to stave off the impending headache and reaches into their pocket for their iPod, scrolling until they locate their favorite playlist.

Rather, they attempt to. In place of their carefully-assembled collection of études is a playlist creatively labeled "8 BIT CHOPIN :D".

_"Ren."_

"Hm?" Ren hums, not looking up from his game.

"Did you touch iTunes again?"

"No." Ren jabs a few buttons. “Oh god, I think I just got KO’d.”

Of course, _no_ in Ren-speak translates to a very blasé yes. Leon tries not to groan aloud as they tug a pristine pair of white earbuds out of their collar and resign themself to their fate.

* * *

Leon barely manages their way through ten tunes of the monstrosity of a soundtrack Ren has forcibly provided them with before curiosity gets the best of them.

(It's strange; they would never have thought themself a curious person, yet here they are willingly pausing music to inquire about someone's well-being. Without even trying, Ren's pulled an impressive feat; music generally takes precedence over the majority of the human populace in Leon's book.)

"What?"

As inquiries go, it could be worse. Leon supposes they should be grateful for the ability to still communicate in words after the cacophony of chiptunes their psyche has been assailed with over the past half hour.

"What do you mean, _what?"_ Ren responds petulantly, glaring at the side of the chair like it's done him some grievous wrong.

Leon sighs and tugs out the other earbud, flicking their iPod off to conserve battery because Ren likely didn't charge it after completely scrambling their playlists. "You wouldn't shut up about this tournament for an entire week, and you pick _now_ to go silent?"

Ren opens his mouth to say something, but Leon cuts him off, fueled by passive fury about the fact that Ren sacrificed an entire playlist's worth of classical music to shitty chiptunes.

(Among other things.)

(But mostly the chiptunes.)

"Don't even try it. In order for you to stop your everything, I was forced to hold your deck above the birdbath and nearly ended up making good on my threat. You woke me up _four hours early_ this morning for the security check, and you ordered me a ten-flavored coffee that I cared neither to imbibe nor to pay for. And after all of the above, you pick _right now_ to look like you'd rather be anywhere else on the planet. Something is decidedly wrong."

Ren stares at them. _"Someone's_ talkative."

"And _someone’s_ not," counters Leon.

"Big deal," mutters the redhead, pulling a face at them before mumbling something inaudible.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Ren shakes his head, and by extension his ponytail; Leon swears they see crimson hair impact the latter party directly across the face and wonders for the umpteenth time why he doesn't simply adopt a shorter cut.

Neither party extends the conversation, and the two end up lapsing into silence. Ren gets increasingly more fidgety as the minutes tick by, and Leon realizes with some mortification that they are unconsciously mirroring the taller male's nervous movements.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

 _"That."_ Leon gestures purposefully to the entirety of their travel partner, deliberately making sure Ren can fully comprehend their hand motion; a supremely offended expression is Ren’s only response before the intercom crackles above their heads.

"International flight 3502 HTA to JFK now accepting priority passengers and families with small children..."

Leon considers shoving Ren underneath the label of "small children" in order to board early but decides against it in the end; although the flight is fully booked, they possess no desire to argue with someone over a double row of chairs. Ren remains unnaturally quiet, lips pressed together in a thin line as the two are all but carried into the boarding line by the influx of passengers, and Leon would ask what’s wrong except 1. they don't do that and 2. they're more occupied with finding the boarding passes (which goes something like _why the living hell did I let Ren of all people hold them oh god we’re doomed he’d lose his Game Boy if Pokemon wasn’t in it.)_

Quietly, Ren reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two slightly wrinkled but otherwise undamaged printed pieces of paper, and Leon bites the inside of their cheek to prevent themself from actually sighing in relief. They're ferried by staff through the metal temp gate that connects the airport to the plane; Leon's pinpointed a double seat two steps into the plane before they realize a certain redheaded annoyance is not next to them.

"Oi." Leon glances backwards, quickly jogging over to Ren's side. "We don't have all day. Planes do take off without people."

"I _know_ that," Ren huffs, hoisting his backpack a bit further onto his shoulder and looking even more like a child than he did while they were seated at the gate.

"Then what's the issue?"

"There _is_ no issue," insists Ren, but his voice wavers somewhere in the middle of his sentence.

Leon simply raises an eyebrow and waits, tucking a flyaway piece of blond hair behind their ear.

"Okay, okay! Don't stare at me like that." Ren glares at the floor. "Maybe there is a problem. Kind of a large one."

"Well?" Leon taps a foot impatiently. The gate hallway is mostly devoid of people by now, with the exception of the beleaguered flight attendant greeting stragglers behind them, and no one appears to be paying any attention to the oddly matched pair.

Ren mutters something too low for even Leon to hear, and the latter shakes their head in frustration.

"Ren, I can't--"

"Aviophobia," blurts Ren. "I’m afraid of planes."

"And you couldn't have mentioned this earlier?" Leon stares at him in disbelief.

"Well, I was…" begins Ren, but his excuse is interrupted by the final boarding call.

Sighing, Leon grabs Ren's hand and hauls him and his suitcase up the ramp.

* * *

By some miracle, the pair of seats Leon pointed out earlier is still free, so they haul an uncooperative Ren into the aisle seat before climbing unceremoniously over him to sit at the window.

Ren stares at Leon like they've grown a second head. "You could have just sat down first, you know."

 _"Or_ you could have seated yourself on your own power, rather than me having to do it for you," retorts Leon sourly.

Ren pulls a face at them. Worryingly enough, no further retorts surface.

Twin turbofan engines hum to rhythmic life around them, carrying the flight-capable metal construct forward. A mechanical voice starts in on the flight procedures; Leon spends most of the next five minutes giving the screen in front of them a vicious look in the hope that it will somehow deter the automated voice from cheerfully describing every single possible method of emergency evacuation (complete with colorful and detailed pictures of exactly what to do in a crash.) Beside them, Ren grows steadily paler, and Leon tries to ignore the small feeling of dread in the pit of their stomach.

The plane taxies onto the runway, and the world falls out from beneath them both.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (gently dusts off gdocs and evernote) Hi  
> totally unproofed also im praying for no spelling errors cuz fixing shit from mobile is dicks

Takeoff is unpleasant, to say the least.

Ren thinks he could maybe tolerate it more if he wasn't being shoved down in his seat and his ears didn't feel like they'd been stuffed with plaster. Suddenly he's dizzy and he can't breathe, and then he can kind of manage but it feels gross and awful to inhale. Leon's voice is faint in his ear, asking if he wants ginger ale, and when he doesn't answer them at first they ask if he’s alive.

"I'm fine," mumbles Ren. His stomach is rising and falling with the motions of the plane, and he is vaguely thankful that the last time he ate anything of substance was over twelve hours ago.

The flight attendant gives him a skeptical look. Leon requests ginger ale and pretzels for the both of them, saving their sigh for when she walks off.

"You look dreadful."

"You look annoyed."

"You're holding my hand."

Too nauseous to be embarrassed, Ren disengages his death grip on Leon's fingers and slumps over. _Thirteen more hours._

"Twelve hours and fifty-four minutes, actually," Leon informs him.

"Okay, I lied," Ren announces, lifting his head from the seatback tray. "Everything is horrible and I want to get off this thing."

Leon snorts in a rather undignified manner before reaching into their backpack and withdrawing a small stack of papers. "Did you fill out the pre-registration form yet?"

"We had to do that?" Ren leans over to watch them write.

"I was expecting that." The corner of Leon's mouth quirks up just a little. It's kind of cute. "I brought an extra one."

Ren rummages in his carry-on bag for a bit and emerges with a gel pen. Wincing, he uncaps it and starts scribbling across the page in electric-blue ink.

"Ooh, Rekka is going to be so pissed..."

"Who's Rekka?" Leon queries, signing their name at the bottom of the paper with a flourish.

"She's my fight partner at the card shop in Hitsue sometimes," answers Ren, chewing on the pen cap as he considers the two tiny boxes under _gender._ "Her and her sisters are going to this tourney too, I think."

 _"She_ and her sisters," Leon corrects him, tugging the pen away from his mouth. "Don't do that. It's unhygienic."

"Hmmmph." Ren throws them his best glare and returns to the piece of paper. He draws a small box next to the other two and carefully prints _My gender is Shadow Paladin_ in the empty space beside it before haphazardly scrawling his name at the bottom of the page. "Okay, finished. Are we there yet?"

Leon glances over at Ren's registration form and promptly places their head in their hands.

* * *

The flight gets exponentially better when the snacks arrive.

The can of ginger ale puts Ren's stomach to rest, and his appetite returns enough for him to demolish both his and Leon's dinner. Needless to say, Leon is not amused.

"They're very sparing with food on most flights, even intercontinental ones."

"It's okay, I have snacks!" Ren explains, gleefully upending his backpack. Candy flies everywhere.

"That was unnecessary." Leon folds their arms, casting a disgusted look at the pile of lollipops and jawbreakers. "Honestly, the amount of sugar you manage to transport everywhere is appalling."

"You're a meanie!" Ren pulls a face at them. "I can't believe I have to do two whole weeks of tag matches with you. _Hmph!_ "

"Ren," Leon addresses him. Their accent is faint and lilting, lending their words a musical quality, but Ren would rather live on a plane for the rest of his life than admit he enjoys hearing the other's voice. "You've 'dealt with me,' as you so eloquently put it, for almost two years. Two more weeks won't kill you."

"Don't remind me," grumbles Ren, dramatically flinging an arm across his face. "You're such a picky roommate."

"Yes, well." Leon flicks their hand across the screen in front of them. "Some of us don't make it a habit to inhabit a literal _tent_ underneath their bed–"

The plane dips sharply, interrupting their sentence. Ren grits his teeth and tries not to think about the fact that he is still encased within a massive steel construct being held up by two engines and sheer force of will.

"We appear to be encountering turbulence," announces the pilot, rather unnecessarily.

"You don't say," Ren bites back in the direction of the intercom. His heart is racing nearly as fast as the plane, and he valiantly hopes his voice conveys irritation instead of terror.

"You're holding my hand again," Leon points out. Surprisingly, they don't sound too concerned.

"Okay. Are there any good movies?"

Leon flicks their free wrist, transferring the list from their screen to Ren's in one fluid motion. "Pick one. You're not allowed to select based on whether they have dragons in them."

Ren pouts but opts for silence as he scrolls, mostly because he really doesn't trust his mouth to relay anything that isn't panicky noises or the weird thought that Leon's hand is nice to hold. Eventually he settles for a rewatch of How To Train Your Dragon.

"You _own_ that movie," Leon tells him, looking exasperated. "And I could have sworn I said something about dragons."

"I didn't hear you."

"Of course not." Resignedly, Leon repositions themself and presses play.

* * *

Ren falls asleep somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, waking only because the sun is in his face. Literally.

The plane is flying above the clouds, making it impossible to tell what timezone they are currently inhabiting, and the person who is usually privy to these things is napping peacefully next to him. Quietly, Ren eases past Leon's resting form to peer out of the window, because heights might be a weakness but curiosity is a bigger one and none of the flight attendants know his 3DS has a camera.

"What are you doing?" Leon asks from--well, beneath him, technically.

Ren glances down. He's stepping on Leon's foot.

"Good morning?"

"No." Leon lifts their feet into the chair, allowing Ren the barest window of passage as they curl back up. "I am returning to sleep."

"But the sun is out." Ren gestures to the clouds outside.

"We're on top of clouds." Leon scowls at him. Their hair is not quite messy enough to be considered bedhead, but it's slowly approaching that point. "Of course the sun is out."

"Oh." Ren deflates slightly. "I'm not tired anymore, though."

"Wait until timezones hit you," mumbles Leon into their sleeve. "Who knows, you may adopt a more regular sleeping schedule if you're exhausted."

"That's not nice," Ren chides them.

Leon glares at him and turns their back, curling up in their chair like a small and annoyed cat.

Ren spends the remainder of the flight time playing Pokemon and mentally preparing himself for the crackle of the intercom announcing the plane's descent. Leon eases their way back into the waking world soon afterwards with a magnificent yawn, becoming instantly alert upon realizing the aircraft is circling.

The plane tilts almost vertically to the ground and…nothing. Descent is as light as a card falling to the ground, leaving only a slight stuffiness in everyone's ears as its parting gift.

"Seriously?" Ren is not impressed. "Takeoff was absolutely horrible, and now this?"

"Stop whining," mumbles Leon sleepily. "Just be glad this is over."

"I think that’s what _you’re_ glad for." Ren grins at them. "You talk in your sleep," he adds smugly, and suddenly Leon is a little more alert and a _lot_ more embarrassed.

"For the love of– _Ren, just get off the plane!_ "

* * *

With the airport out of the picture, Ren is immediately back to his usual self.

 _"Leo-n!_ You can’t sleep now, there's things to see! Places to go! We’re not even on our home continent anymore!"

"Glad you noticed," grumbles Leon, rubbing one eye with a pristine white sleeve. The two are seated near the front of the shuttle bus with their luggage; it’s Ren’s designated job to keep an eye out for their stop, but Leon has adopted the role because their traveling partner is currently trying to figure out the location of Nintendo World.

"Oi, oi!" Ren tugs on Leon’s sleeve insistently. "I heard they sell stuffed toys that are your actual height–well, _my_ height, it doesn’t take much to reach yours–"

Leon bristles. "Say that to my face, you–"

"The Hilton," announces the driver, looking rather peeved.

"When do we get to go places?" Ren asks, effortlessly hauling both his and Leon’s suitcases off the shuttle.

Leon places two fingers to their temple. " _We_ are going to the hotel to check in and receive our train passes. _You_ can get lost in the city on your own time."

The sentence _I’m going to sleep for five years_ is implicit, but Ren catches the message. Traveling has never been the kindest to Leon, and almost a day of it has probably exhausted them beyond belief. (There’s also the concerning matter of their notoriously weak immune system, but Ren files this particular train of thought under W for Worrying Too Damn Much and decides to go pick up some Airborne for them once they’re settled in.)

"...en. Ren!"

"Eh?" Ren blinks and realizes very belatedly that Leon’s been trying to grab his attention for nearly a minute. "Oh, my bad. What’s up?"

"‘What’s up’?" echoes Leon incredulously. "I asked you if you wanted to go parachuting from the top floor of this hotel and you nodded in agreement. Are you--well, ah-"

"Am I what?" Ren tilts his head questioningly, prompting Leon to finish their sentence.

"Well." Leon appears to be losing steam rapidly and is currently doing their best to avoid eye contact. "Have there been any...um, residual effects...from our trip so far?"

Ren raises an eyebrow. "Leon, are you trying to ask if I’m okay?"

"Never mind." Flushing, the blonde cardfighter wrenches their suitcase from Ren’s grasp and stomps past him through the spiral doors of the hotel.

Thoroughly confused, Ren stares at the still-spinning doorway before realizing Leon is probably going to check in without him.

“Oh, hell.”

* * *

Twenty-seven minutes, four wrong turns, two stolen coffees and one very aggravated bellboy later, Ren is parked safely in his and Leon’s shared hotel room. Immediately, he dives face-first into the single bed, relishing the feeling of being able to lay on a surface actually designed for sleep after literally flying across the world. The comforter is so soft and fluffy, and Leon probably won’t mind if he lays there for a few minutes, right?

He wakes some time later to find Leon staring down at him. They’ve changed into loose white pants and a plain shirt in lieu of their normal garb; it's probably an attempt at pajamas but it's actually really cute and _holy hell_ maybe Ren needs to go back to sleep and wake up when he stops blushing.

“Ren, get off the bed. Your hair is a mess.”

Yep, never mind. Ren sits up and rubs his eyes, mouth curving downwards in a pout. “Thanks for your rude and completely unwarranted opinion."

“Get out of your day clothes at least,” replies Leon exasperatedly. “They can’t be comfortable.”

It occurs to Ren that he’s been wearing his binder for a solid twenty hours. Oops. He launches himself off the surface of the bed and kicks open his overstuffed suitcase, grabbing a shirt and what he hopes are pants before dashing into the bathroom.

“You’re welcome!” calls Leon through the door.

“No need to thank me,” Ren snarks back, flicking on the tap over Leon’s faint noise of outrage.

Ren amuses himself for a few minutes playing with the water settings before raking his fingers through his hair underneath the spray and scrubbing down as quickly as he can. Leon was _totally_ right about casuals being more comfy; a tank top mostly covers for the absence of his binder as he jams his arms into his favorite long-sleeve Pokemon tee and kicks open the bathroom door.

“Oi, Leon! You should fight me for practi--Oh.”

Leon is curled up on the bed, their outfit rendering them nearly indistinguishable from the sheets aside from their highlighter hair. The ever-present frown on their face is conspicuously absent for once, which is probably why Ren chooses to tuck them in rather than wake them up.

That also probably accounts for the feather-light kiss Ren delivers to Leon’s forehead before he firmly entrenches himself in the covers on the other side of the bed, face burning almost as brightly as his hair.

Probably.

* * *

(Ren doesn’t get much sleep that night.)


End file.
